Minor Slash warning, Shounen-ai content.

Morning came earlier than Prowl wanted it to, but he knew he couldn't stay in Recharge forever. His circuitry slowly coming back online, it alighted his other senses as it went, bringing up his optics first. Needless to say, he got a nice recharge, but something kept disturbing his subconscious as he slept. Those words kept going through his head, spreading warmth every time he thought about them…
Looking behind him he saw the wall and nothing more; the Energon having worn off hours ago, and with it, the slanted writing had vanished. Sighing, he wished he knew who had written it. For all he knew it wasn't who he thought. For all he knew it could have been the younger bots playing tricks on him. For all he knew… for all he knew…
Getting a sudden idea, he left his room, heading across the hall to reach the ark's medbay. 'Ratchet would know…' he thought with a slight surge of happiness. 'He gets to see everyone's handwriting, so if anyone knows, he would.' His spirits lifting, he hoped that the medic could tell him, or at least point him in the direction, of the bot with the slanted writing.
Arriving at the medbay, he discovered the doors to be locked and their windows drawn, which usually meant that the medic was either busy, or had stepped out. He looked at the doors disappointedly, as if it was their fault that he wasn't getting his answers, but, as he could do nothing, he just left, walking slowly down the corridor.
"Prowl!" He jumped as the call ripped through the silence of the early morning and whirled around to face the caller, though he already knew who the voice belonged to.
Jazz stood there watching his higher officer curiously, a slightly surprised look across his optics as he watched; apparently Prowl was flushing again. Prowl's spark was pulsing in his chest, more from fright than anything, but his circuits were now alighted with warmth as he lay optics on the Porsche.
"Jazz!" he sighed. "Hive me a jump-start, why don't you…" he smiled at Jazz and his face felt warm when the younger smiled back.
"Sorry, bud." Jazz giggled and bit his lip, making that seriously adorable baby-face that Prowl loved but hated so much. "What's up?" Jazz asked; apparently Prowl's face was redder than he thought it was.
"N-nothing, Jazz," he laughed, trying to cover up the red that had adorned his cheeks. "Just… embarrassed from jumping like that." Why, oh, why did Jazz have to keep making that pouty face?! The Porsche smiled, which made it all-the-more harder for Prowl to settle his circuits.
Jazz shifted on his feet and looked at the ground for a second. "Well… I was hoping to talk to you about something before the others woke." He glanced up at Prowl as if to see how he'll react to his request.
Wondering why, the cop cocked his head. "About…?" he asked quietly.
"Well, something that's… kind of hard to say…" The younger stared at his feet, apparently embarrassed by what was on his mind. Prowl's mind was buzzing; talk to Jazz? Alone? This might be his big chance to tell they young mech how he felt! Suddenly a lot happier about his situation, he smiled at Jazz and led him to his office, Jazz seeming happy that Prowl would listen.
Shutting the doors to his office after Jazz came in, he turned, beckoning the bot to sit in a seat as he, himself, sat behind his desk. Jazz obediently sat quietly and watched Prowl.
"So, what's on your mind?" Prowl asked, placing his fingers together and looking over the apex of them to the young bot before him.
Jazz looked slightly uneasy; he seemed to be squirming a little under Prowl's gaze. "Well… I'm in a predicament," He looked at his knees as he spoke in a mumble. Prowl's audio receptors had to really strain to hear him. "See… there's a bot I know who… who has… feelings… for another bot." Prowl's optics widened slightly as he listened, wondering if this had anything to do with the writing he had discovered recently. "And I'm stuck in the middle," Jazz went on, speaking to his knees. "I like her too, but I don't know if she likes me. What do I do?"
Prowl's spark sank and he was filled with dread. She… a female… Prowl tried not to let his disappointment show on his features as he tripled. "If she likes you then she should have no problem talking to you about it. You should just ask her, or tell her how you feel."
Jazz's head snapped up, a slightly strained expression there. "But-- but what if she rejects me? What if she doesn't think it's right?!" His voice kept getting louder as he spoke. "What if she doesn't want to be my friend any more-?!"
Prowl was surprised by this sudden outburst of energy and childish behavior from the young Porsche. He thought for a second and remembered something, that had it not been for this war, Jazz would have been a very young and naïve bot now. He thought about his answer carefully before giving it. "Well, if she doesn't want to be your friend any longer then… well, you must have not been suitable as a friend in the first place." Prowl watched Jazz for a while, the young bot seeming to accept what Prowl was telling him. Jazz relaxed and nodded, smiling ever-so-slightly.
"I'm sorry for bothering you with something so childish," Jazz looked at Prowl with a mixture of respect and love. "I just don't know what to say to him."
"'Him'? Prowl repeated, watching Jazz curiously as a tiny blip of hope sparked inside him.
Jazz's face flushed red at his mistake. "My friend, the other bot who likes the girl I like." He looked uneasy again and stared, once again, at his knees, refusing to look at his superior, even after he was asked to raise his head.
Feeling that this conversation just got severely awkward, Prowl elected to end it. "Well… I've got to get to work, Jazz," he said, beginning to pull out data pads that he had to go over and setting them on his desk. Jazz nodded, but didn't look at Prowl. Getting up Jazz let himself out with not so much as a farewell of any kind. The cop didn't really like the fact that his best friend didn't give him a good-bye at all, but shrugged it off; he can't make someone do something. Sighing, he looked down at the pads again, staring at the one on top.
A brown note was stuck to the top pad. Picking it up, he read the note in the same slanted writing that he saw on his wall last night. His body was flooded with happiness and wonder as he read the same four words as before. He gazed at the paper, a smile swiftly replacing the frown on his face and elation replacing misery. He set the piece of paper aside and began to work, but found that his optics and mind kept wandering away.